


Reflection

by micehell



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, M/M, while no actual rape scene there is a definite allusion to one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-26
Updated: 2007-10-26
Packaged: 2019-10-26 13:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17746949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: Mirrors only show what's on the surface





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> In much the same way I said that you could consider [Interstice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/495938) and [Release](https://archiveofourown.org/works/495936) to be connected stories, this one could connect back to both of those if you chose to view them that way.
> 
> This originally got abandoned because it spawned the story _Half-Shut Eye_ , and therefore has a little too much in common with that than is ideal... well, that and it's a touch melodramatic, but then you guys should be used to that by now. *laughs*

He dreamed, like he had with his mother, and it hurt the same way. He woke crying out, breathless, fear shivering through him. He dreamed, but not at all like he had for his mother; waking hard, so hard he hurt. He could still see it, the dream -- _something hurting Obi-Wan, a monster, hitting him, holding him, holding him down,_ fucking _him_ , and it was wrong, all wrong, it made him sick. But he could still see it, _feel_ it, his master so tight around him, and even as he shook his head in denial, he jacked his cock -- the wrong hand now, always the wrong hand -- quick and sharp, wanting it rough, wanting it to hurt -- _feeling so good_ \-- coming hard even as the vision finally faded.

He just made it to the bowl before he vomited, dark bile spewing out of him. He wished it were more, darker memories still swirling inside. He wondered what was wrong with him, thinking of Obi-Wan that way. Any way. He was meant to be with Padme; that was his destiny. He knew it, _knew_ it, because he'd seen it. The memories laughed, hissing, whispering, _you saw this, too_.

He looked in the mirror, touching his face. Same one he'd worn yesterday. No monsters here. He looked in the mirror, touching his face, flesh cold and clammy, and told himself that it was only his imagination that he could feel the metal -- the monster -- underneath.

He dreamed, the same way he always did, and woke, his breath loud from the vocoder, his body still remembering the distant sensation of pain. Of pleasure. He ignored them, focusing on his normal routine. The systems checks, the sonic cleaning, cape twitched into place. He caught sight of his reflection, warped and shimmering in the brushed metal of the door, the perfect image of a Dark Lord of the Sith.

He looked at his reflection, touching the cold metal over his face, telling himself it was only his imagination that he could feel the flesh -- the monster -- underneath.

/story


End file.
